POTTER CASE REOPENED — IS BLACK INNOCENT?
Rita Skeeter
3 July 2013
Yesterday, July 2nd, Lord Tom Riddle Jr., renowned politician and head chairman of the Hogwarts board of governors, presented the Wizengamot with an appeal to review the trial of Sirius Orion Black, who was previously convicted for assisting in the murders of James and Lily Potter on October 31st, 2001.
After founding his appeal on startling – though unfortunately undisclosed – new evidence and several transcribed conversations between himself and Black, Lord Riddle had these words to share with us here at the Prophet yesterday evening:
"Anyone with half a mind can view the pensive copies of Mr. Black's trial and realize that his confession was given out of guilt, not truth. Veritaserum, while a very useful potion, has been known to fail when faced with distinguishing between a person's perceived truths and legitimate ones. I fear that our legal system failed to save Mr. Black from himself twelve years ago, and with that possibility in mind, we as public servants owe him nothing less than a revision of evidence. If not for his sake, then for his godson's."
Unbeknownst to the public until last evening's meeting with Lord Riddle, Sirius Black was not only a close friend of the Potter family, but also the godfather of Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived. Mr. Potter only had his muggle relatives to go to after the death of his parents, limiting his access to the magical world, and Lord Riddle has informed us that Black intends to gain custody of his godson should his innocence be proved.
Mr. Potter has not been available to comment on the issue at this time.
With the Wizengamot in deep discussion today, we anxiously await further developments.
(See Page 2, Section 4 for details and transcripts of Lord Riddle's interviews with Sirius Black.)
Hermione dozed while she ate a bowl of cereal. She had her chin propped on one hand, while the other was going back and forth between writing Tom and the occasional spoonful of cereal.
She didn't need to eat quickly. There were no classes to rush to, no noisy eaters around her. The house was silent. Her parents had left for the office before she'd gotten out of bed and wouldn't be back for several hours yet.
The peace was refreshing.
Good morning. You seem drowsy, Tom wrote.
I slept in, she penned. He was right. She was writing slowly. Sleep was clinging to her.
How late is it?
Hermione lifted her head just enough to see the microwave and winced, embarrassed. Yikes. It's noon. I feel lazy now.
She could feel his amusement as if it were bleeding through the pages. You had a long year. Enjoy the rest while you can get it. She took another bite of cereal while he wrote. I'm at dinner. Malfoy and Black are arguing over some policy their fathers are on opposite sides of at the Wizengamot. It has to do with muggleborns and half-bloods. I'll take your slothful brunch discussions over their garbage any day.
Hermione snorted. Blood supremacy nonsense, I take it?
The very same. I don't know who I want to curse more. The only entertaining thing about it is how terrified Avery and Nott are for Malfoy's sake.
She winced in sympathy. I don't envy him.
It is both a blessing and a curse that most of my classmates have forgotten I'm a half-blood, he wrote. But it's his vehemence about muggleborns that's making my wand hand twitch. I don't think I've mentioned your lineage to them, but it's no matter. He'll learn one way or another. The pair of us may be outliers, but we're still far more powerful than any pureblood.
She frowned and took her time chewing another spoonful of cereal. Blood status doesn't matter, Tom, she wrote carefully. No one needs some great lineage to fall back on. There are plenty of powerful muggleborns and halfbloods. We're not exceptions to a rule.
Of course we are, he wrote, the words appearing quicker than Hermione had ever seen him write. There are weak wizards everywhere. Purebloods, halfbloods, muggleborns. Most of them wouldn't know the different between Aberto and Alohomora if it wasn't drilled into them during second year. It's different for us. We're stronger. We're better. We can do more than just follow rules and say magic words, Hermione.
And you're arrogant, she thought to herself, and wrote, We're motivated. Almost anyone can be a talented witch or wizard if they put their mind to it.
I sincerely doubt that, said Tom. There's always a hierarchy, Dove.
Hermione shook her head. If you say so.
She spent most of the day reading and writing Tom, and while she missed going to the Room of Requirement, she enjoyed how her absence led to him telling her about aspects of his day they'd normally gloss over.
Sundays can be so annoying. Everyone's frantically trying to finish homework due tomorrow. I've done mine, of course. Still, they ruin my peace with their tittering.
You're so easy to pester, she wrote, smiling at his petulance.
The common room echoes.
She asked him to explain and was fascinated by the image he painted for her.
I'm not sure what the Gryffindor common room looks like, but ours is dimly lit. Not so dark that it's difficult to see, but not bright either. The back wall, across from the entrance, is made up of large windows and one of the fireplaces. Some of the glass is mosaic. Some of it's clear panes. They're all reading nooks, though. The benches are padded. Slughorn doesn't like when we close the curtains around ourselves, but he doesn't stop us either. Well, I should rephrase. He doesn't stop those of us who are sitting alone. Everyone gets a bit peeved by idiot fourth, fifth, and sixth years that try to snog back here. Most of the seventh years have figured out how to ward abandoned classrooms if they're that desperate for privacy. Then again, a fair few of the purebloods are prudes or uppity bints following mummy and daddy's example.
Some of the sofas are leather. Some are fabric. There's the far back fireplace, two on the left side (if you're standing in the entrance) and one on the right. Each fireplace area has its own section of furniture. The stairwells to the boys' dorms are on the left side, between the two seating areas. The stairwell to the girls' is directly across from it on the opposite side. The common room floor is dark flagstone, but there are rugs everywhere. Most of them are dark green with the house crest. Some are solid black. On the right side, between the entrance and the right fireplace, is the entrance to a corridor that leads to Slughorn's office.
And where are you? she asked. Where do you usually spend your time?
The nook directly left of the back fireplace, he answered. My lot usually takes over the back of the room. Being close to the water is calming. When it's sunny outside, the light shines through the lake a bit. It reminds me of an aquarium.
Hermione sighed wistfully. That sounds much nicer the Gryffindor's.
She described the Gryffindor common room to him in turn, though she felt her description was far less inspiring than his had been. It's warm and cozy, no doubt. But rarely peaceful.
It sounds like you'd get a headache the moment you walked in, said Tom. I don't know how you stand it.
She wrote Tom and read until her parents got home, then promised to write him after dinner.
Her father returned her bright smile when she met them at the door and was the first to hug her. Her mother planted a kiss to her hair as she passed them in the hallway.
"How was your day?" her father asked.
"Lovely," she told him. "I've read all day."
"Of course you have," he said, running a hand over her curls. "What'd you read? Something magical?"
She'd read a bit of muggle and magical material throughout the day, and was happy to launch into a summary of both while her parents started on dinner. She tried not to go too in-depth with the magical parts, knowing it could be difficult to grasp, but was pleased when they asked her questions.
"So," said David, "you can create water with magic, but not food?"
Hermione nodded from the kitchen table. "I'm not entirely certain if the water conjured by spells is actually summoned from somewhere else or if the spell just causes the molecules around you to converge, turn into oxygen and hydrogen, and then combine to create a steady stream of water, but yes. You can conjure drinking water, but not real food."
"What if you transfigured -is that the word?- a feather into a sandwich?" he countered.
"At best, you can turn existing food into something different, or make more of it, but you have to have some already. That or the spell would revert in your stomach," she told them. "It's complicated stuff. Real food that actually serves its purpose can't be made with magic. Make a feather into a sandwich and you've still eaten a feather."
The Granger's skipped the feathers and had chicken pesto sandwiches for dinner. Hermione helped with the dishes and spent half an hour watching telly with her parents before she grew bored.
"Back to your books, love?" Jean called when Hermione headed towards the stairs.
She threw an affirmative over her shoulder and took the stairs two a time. She didn't know how late it was for Tom, but hoped she'd catch him once more before he went to bed.
Are you still awake? she wrote.
After several impatient minutes on Hermione's part, his reply appeared on the page and she relaxed.
I am, Dove. Welcome back. Enjoy your supper?
With a contented sigh, she quickly changed into pajamas, grabbed her quill, and threw herself onto her bed. I did. How's your evening been?
Dealt with Malfoy He was, of course, quick to learn from his mistakes. Black's another story. I have little use for anything except his name, but I don't think the backing of the Black family is worth dealing with their tempers and personalities.
Sounds exciting, she wrote, hoping he picked up on her sarcasm. I taught my parents about Gamp's Law over sandwiches.
You're absurd, wrote Tom. But amusing.
Hermione grinned. Dad asked why we could conjure water and not food. They're dentists, doctors. They like to understand things.
Still, said Tom. The image of you teaching basic Transfiguration principals to two muggles over dinner is an entertaining thought.
She rolled her eyes. Now who's absurd?
Still you, Dove.
Hermione wasn't sure which of them fell asleep first, but smiled when she woke up beside the diary. Later that afternoon, when Tom woke up for the day, he was adamant that she'd fallen asleep before him.
She wondered if he could tell that she didn't believe him.
:) Happy Tuesday, guys.